Saturday, August 31, 2013

Blogger Blech and a Visit From My Home's Past

      OK, I am still having problems with the compose button.
I am not going to get upset...

I am not going to turn this into a "rant-ish" post

I am going to be cool and calm


                                                             I will be calm

                                                  I GIVE UP BLOGGER!!!!

       YA HEAR ME??????

                I G-I-V-E- UUUUP!!!

                       You, my dear unreliable Blogger have left me no choice!


                          HERE GOES........


                                          So There!!!!

OK, feeling a bit better.


Anyhoo, last week I was cleaning the house and as always when one is  wearing stained sweats, hair is in a lopsided bun, the pail and mop is at one end of the room, vacuum on the other, and laundry waiting to be folded on the living room couch......

                       The Door Bell rings.


                          of course!

Now I have to tell you that when the house is spotless....not one single person will ring that bell....

but just let me get behind on my cleaning...then everyone and their mother wants to stop by for a visit.

So I dragged my tired, sweat-stained-self to the door when I see a young man in his twenties and a very chic dressed gal (also in her twenties) standing before me.

"Can I help you?" I ask with the outer storm door securely locked of course. Too many horror stories to just open the door willy nilly.

"Hi, I don't know if you remember me...I'm Peter (not his real name) I used to live here".

All at once I remembered his red hair and freckles. His parents were getting a divorce and he, his older sister and his Mom were going to move upstate. He must have been 12 when they left. He still had the very same face...sweet and kind. He then said...

                " I would love to see the house again...can I?"  I then told him if he gave me a few minutes to put stuff away that he may certainly come in.

A few minutes later he came back and I gave him a tour. Now , I have to tell you that lately I have been I don't know....not really happy with my house.

It's small...

        and even though we have done so much to still feels a bit


I focus on what is not done.

          and then there's the bedrooms.....

                             tiny tiny tiny

So when Peter told me about the 14 acres that he moved to as a child... and  about the huge house they moved to after they sold us our house...

I said.."Well, in comparison this house must look as small as a shed to you now."

Then his sweet face lit up and he looked around and said something that almost brought a tear to my eye.

           He smiled  " We moved to a big house, but this is home to me."

After he left, I took out the unfolded laundry that I had thrown into the closet and continued my chores. I listened to my kids tease each other and watched as my dog yet again tried to sneak onto the couch. I looked at the small corner where we always place our Christmas tree, and I looked into the kitchen and out the bay window where I watch the kids run and play with their friends.... this time I looked around at my tiny home....

                                       and smiled



  1. It's not how big it is, it's how much life you've crammed into it. THAT'S what makes a house a home.

  2. Awww :)
    I love this, thanks for sharing your story!


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